There Are Some
by ZeGabz
Summary: Killian Jones believes that all he wants is revenge on the man that took everything from him. Emma Swan is a woman who just wants to be home with her son at the end of the day. However, when Killian is paralyzed from the chest down, he must find something else to live for and Emma discovers that despite all his faults, there are some people you just choose.


**Title: There Are Some**

**Prompt: paralyzed!Hook**

**Rating: T**

**Length: 1,541**

**A/N: For quicker updates, check Tumblr. I combine chapters for posting on here. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

White.

For a moment, all he can see when he opens his eyes is a bright white. After a brief moment of confusion and panic, colored blurs begin to appear. He hears a steady beeping, and then a quick shuffling of … something. It gets louder, but not significantly before stopping nearby.

Oh, feet. Wherever he is, he's not alone. Wherever he is …

Where am I?

"You're at the hospital," comes a reply from somewhere above him. Oh. He hadn't realized he'd spoken then. "Hook …"

_Hook? My name … my name is …_

"Killian …" the name is spoken with such hesitance that is stirs something in his brain. He muddles through his foggy thoughts until he remembers.

_Oh right, _he remembers_, I'm called Hook._

He's tired. Really tired. He wants … he'll just go back to sleep now. Yes, sleep …

Then his eyes really kick in. The blurs sharpen, and he has to blink repeatedly to adjust. Standing over him, to his extreme surprise, is the Swan girl. Emma.

"Yes, that's right," Emma says.

Oh, spoke again.

He wants to reach out to her, demand that she explain why he's here, but his arm doesn't move. He can't even bring himself to turn over. He turns his head over groggily.

"What can you remember?" she asks gently, but she should know she won't get much of a response out of him.

But because it's her, and all he can muster about her is that she matters, he manages to mumble, "I remember everything," before drifting off to sleep once more.

* * *

_She has no logical reason to be at the docks. That much he's certain of. But that doesn't mean he won't welcome the chance to watch her stumble around, looking for whatever it is she wants. Or maybe she just needs some air. The open sea was always a good place for him to clear his head whenever his thoughts would drift to Milah._

_She appears to be looking back and forth and something, and he has to suppress a chuckle. She looks ridiculous. Her eyes drift towards the swan swimming idly by and he watches her lips quirk into a little half-smile._

_The swan has been around his ship for a while. Hook knows that Cora finds the creature irksome, but he doesn't mind it at all. In his head, he's already named it Emma. Emma the swan._

_It's at that point he realizes staying only in Cora's company has been driving him insane._

_He makes his way down his ships's ramp quietly. Cora will probably be very angry at him for this later, but he simply cannot help himself. Emma is far too focused on the swan to notice him. Once more ruminating on the consequences of alerting Emma to his presence, he finds himself throwing his cares to the wind._

_"I don't think you'll find what you're looking for here," he says. Emma whirls around, her mouth opening in shock, and for a moment the two just stare at each other. He reads the, "How the hell did you get here?" in her eyes and waits for the question to be voiced, but she remains silent, just watching him._

_"Maybe I already found it," she replies finally, slowly. Their gazes remain locked. He raises a suggestive eyebrow, but she ignores it. "Are you alone?"_

_"Am I ever?" he asks as an answer. He isn't exactly pleased to see the horror slowly dawn on her face, and shifts awkwardly. "You should go." He doubts Cora will be pleased to know Emma is aware of her presence. He suddenly regrets not being able to just watch her lumber around, realizing he's just risked his life, his revenge, and the life of this mysterious blonde woman before him._

_She walks up to him very slowly, eyes still locked with his until their faces and bodies are so close he can feel the warm radiating from her body._

_"Listen to me very carefully," she whispers, "If anything happens to my son, I will blame you. And you don't want me against you, Hook."_

_"And why would that be?" he growls._

_"Because I've bested you three times now," she murmurs with a smirk, "And the next time I get the better of you, I won't be so forgiving."_

_"You, forgiving?" He snorts and moves even closer to her. "The only reason you're alive is because I spared you at Lake Nostros."_

_He sees the spark of hesitation in her eyes, and knows she's been thinking the exact same thing. "If Cora harms Henry, I will do everything in my power to make sure you never get your precious revenge," Emma hisses, "Are we clear?" This stirs up deep anger inside of Hook, and before he knows it he's lunging at her, pressing her against the invisible hull of his ship with his hook against her throat._

_"You will not get in the way of my revenge," he growls, "And your son will not be harmed." Emma's hands grasp at his wrist, struggling to break his grip._

_"Win, win, then," she whispers. He backs off then._

_"Go, before she gets back," he says, and for once, she listens. Before she's out of earshot, he adds, "And if you tell anyone, be discreet about it. I have no intention of having my heart ripped out."_

* * *

He feels slightly more aware when he wakes next, blinking rapidly. He turns his head when he hears someone approaching him, his eyes slowly focusing on the very pleasant sight before him.

Swan girl. Yes, Emma. She's here …

"Hey there, sleepyhead," she greets grimly.

"The hospital," she replies.

"Yes, yes, you said that already," he snaps, "But I have no bloody idea what a hospital is." Her face remains neutral, but he can see walls going up at his tone. In another time he might have apologized, but he has places to go and crocodiles to skin. He doesn't have time to play games with this woman.

"It's where we take the sick and the injured," he voice seems to crack a little and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the pain in her eyes.

"And I'm …" She frowns.

"Do you not remember?" She moves closer to his bed, where he is propped into a sitting position. "Concentrate, Hook. What's the last thing you can remember?"

He closes his eyes in concentration, struggling to dig up memories that are more of a blur than anything now.

"I … remember the Crocodile."

It comes to him in flashes. The girl from Regina's palace, Rumpelstiltskin calling her Belle, finding her in the library. A smile and suddenly she's in his arms … but it's not romantic. A flash of red. Smee is there. There's rope, and then Belle is tied up, gagged. And then they're back at his ship. Cora berates him, calls him a fool, before disappearing. And then there's nothing. Waiting, waiting for something that he's been craving for over 300 years. And then the monster is there, the monster who took Milah's heart and his happiness. He remembers yelling, gloating. He remembers a gun, and then remembers pain. He wakes up, and he's alone. There's blood. He remembers night falling, and then remembers groping his ship's deck for a gun. He remembers trudging through the woods before finally seeing Rumpelstiltskin. Victory, a bang, and then …

"Hook, there's something you need to know," Emma says, interrupting his reverie.

"Is he dead?" he demands, interrupting her words as she opens her mouth. She hesitates. "IS HE DEAD?" Hook screams, desperate now. She seems taken aback by his intensity, but stands her ground.

"No," she replies simply, bluntly. "I-I'm sorry, Hook." For a long moment, he stares at her blankly, not comprehending.

"I shot him," he insists, "I remember. I hit him, Swan, I-"

"I know," she interjects, "But he's alive, Hook. Now if you'll let me-"

"NO!" He wants to throw something, hit something, drive his hook into-

But he can't. He's not moving. Why is he not moving?

His attention returns to Emma. "What?" he asks. "What do you want to tell me? That I failed? That my revenge is useless? That I'll never see Milah again? Go ahead, try. It won't change a thing, Swan. He may live to see another day, but I swear on my life that they are numbered." She watches him steadily, unblinking.

"Tetraplegia," she says quietly.

"I don't-"

"Let me finish!" she snaps, sounding very weary. "It's a medical term. It refers to a spinal cord injury. Your back. Incomplete tetraplegia takes away the ability for everything below your shoulders to move. Feeling is still there, the body just can't move."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asks slowly, a feeling of dread creeping through his entire being even though he knows exactly why she's talking to him.

She holds up a sheet of paper. "It's your prognosis."

* * *

_There are some moments in life in which time slows down. Your senses become insanely acute, and you notice everything. You see the dilation of the pupils of the woman watching you, the way her eyebrows furrow slightly before unscrunching. The flutter of her eyelids and the way her eyes dart to the side, unwilling to watch. Your thoughts, the order from your brain to your arms, telling them to move but nothing happening. _

_And then she's speaking again. Her words are muddled and echo around in your mind. You latch on the her cool tone, not bothering to decipher what exactly it is she's saying. You haven't been able to simply listen to the gentle waves of a woman's voice in a very long while. Too long, in fact._

_Besides, why should it matter, anyways? Nothing she can say will change what has happened._

_You're paralyzed._

_Your revenge is now impossible._

_And without your revenge, what else do you have to live for?_

* * *

She tries comforting him, but she can tell it's useless. He isn't listening to her right now. He's lost in his own world, trying to come to terms with his grim fate. She eventually runs out of words, and simply stands there, unsure of what to do, not knowing why she's still here.

She can't trust him. She knows it. He's only injured because he tried to kill a man, and that was completely his own fault.

But when she sees nothing but darkness in his eyes and hears how much effort it takes for him to simply breathe, all she can see is a man broken beyond repair. He stares at nothing, his lip quivering and his brows furrowed.

"How much do you remember?" she asks again, eyes trained on his face.

"You'll have to be more specific, love," he groans, neck arching as if he's about to shift into a sitting position before realizing he can't move at all. He growls in frustration.

"Do you need help?" she asks uncertainly.

"No," comes his instant reply. He remains still, not meeting her gaze. It's not exactly his distance that bothers her- it's actually kind of comforting. She can't deal with his probing questions right now.

"Whatever you say," she murmurs with a sigh, reaching ito her bag and pulling out something she knows will get a reaction out of him.

"My hook," he hisses. His mouth opens again, but she cuts him off.

"You don't have to ask," she mutters, fastening the hook onto his wrist eyes locked onto his the entire him. When she's sure she's gotten the job done, she steps back, finally breaking their locked gazes. She turns around without a word, not turning again until she reaches the door. "Goodbye, _Captain_."

"Goodbye," he replies cooly as she shuts the door behind her.

She doesn't return.

* * *

She doesn't see him for weeks. And honestly, she's perfectly okay with that. With Cora and Regina underground and probably planning something that will be more than a pain in her ass, the last thing she's needed is an angsty pirate with an astounding ability to read her even when she doesn't want him to.

But that doesn't stop her from thinking about him.

Every once in a while she'll call Whale to ask how he is, and from what she's heard, he seems to be learning how to live with his disability. Physically, that is. Apparently, they've had to move him to a secluded portion of the hospital because he's become prone to random fits of anger where he'll just yell.

It pains her to think of it. But she doesn't think she can go back, not now.

* * *

She's awoken at eight in the morning by a phone call from the hospital. At first she doesn't answer it, burying her head under a pillow. But the caller is pretty damn persistent, so she sits up and gropes for her cell phone, not quite to the point of opening her eyes yet.

"'lo?" she greets groggily.

"Is that your bedroom voice, love? I'd like to hear it more." She's so startled by the voice that she shoots into a full sitting position, slamming her head into the headboard. She curses under her breath.

"Hook?" she asks in disbelief.

"The one and only," he replies cheekily.

"You sound chipper," she comments, at a loss for legitimate words. "Wait, how are you even on the phone?"

"Your friend, Doctor what's-his-name."

"Whale?" Emma suggests as someone from Hook's line says the same.

"Details, details," he says offhandedly. She chuckles despite herself. "I hear you've been checking up on me. This telephone thing really is bloody brilliant." He chuckles, and that's when she figures it out. It's exactly like the first time she met him back in Storybrooke.

She knew he was being too happy. He's actually miserable. Now it all makes sense.

It's strange, but she feels more attuned to him than any other man she's ever met, even Neal. With Neal, she would trust him blindly, no matter what. Sure, she could tell when he felt bothered about something and knew every single expression of his, but with Hook … all she needed was to look him in the eye or listen for a slight hitch in his voice and she somehow knew exactly what he was thinking, because she was usually thinking the same thing.

He seems put off by her brooding silence. "You haven't come by."

"I never said I would," she counters. "And I've been a bit busy cleaning up the mess you made. It's a miracle you haven't been charged with something yet."

"Well if you won't come by, who will?" he demands in an annoyed voice.

"Cora?"

"You think you're funny, don't you lass?" She rolls her eyes, even though she knows he can't see it.

"Hook, I need to sleep. So unless you actually have a legitimate-"

"He does, actually," comes Dr. Whale's voice. "Or, he was supposed to."

"Well, go on."

"He's ready to be discharged." Emma's eyebrows shoot up. "He's able to communicate properly, and he seems to be very aware of what's going on around him, so if he has somewhere to go, I'd like him to go. There's only one problem."

"What?"

"He's paralyzed. He needs someone who can change his catheter and help him eat and push his wheelchair."

"So?" Emma breathes, already knowing what's about to be said next.

"He has nobody else, Emma. Just you."

* * *

"No! _Absolutely not_!"

Emma sighs, preparing herself for the bombardment of scolding her mother is about to send her way.

"Look, Mary Margaret-um, Mom." She blinks uncomfortably, still unsure of what to call her. "It's only until I can find someone else to take care of him. A week, at most."

"He's dangerous!"

"He's _paralyzed_!" Mary Margaret looks stricken at her raised voice, and she sighs. "Look, he's not even going to be over here. I'll rent out a room at Granny's."

"And just what? Move in with him?"

"He doesn't have anybody else!" Emma reasons, her voice rising again. "Look, I know you may not understand the situation he's in, but I do. He can't do anything. He can't move, but he can feel the prick of IV's. He has to deal, mentally, with the fact that he's alone, unable to move, and unable to function, but he has to deal alone. He hasn't had any visitors, and he probably has cabin fever by now."

"Emma," Mary Margaret sighs, "This is a big commitment. It's not going to be … pleasant. Are you sure you've thought this out?"

"Not at all," Emma replies honestly. "But you know what? I don't care. Aren't you and David all about doing the right thing? Well, this is me doing the right thing. This is me stepping up, at least for a while."

"What about Henry?" Mary Margaret asks finally.

"I don't know," Emma sighs, "I'm not going to spend all of my time with Hook, so I'll still be able to take him to school and all, and remember, this is only temporary-" She feels terrible. Henry is and always will be her top priority, but she knows this is what he would want her to do.

She trails off when Mary Margaret turns around.

"Bring him here," she says after several beats of silence. Emma blanches.

"What?" Mary Margaret turns around.

"You're right. Doing the right thing is what we Charmings do." She smiles and grins with a laugh. "I'll have to talk to Charming first, but maybe we can help you."

"Tha-"

"On _one_ condition."

"Name it," Emma says instantly.

"Tell me why you want to take care of him so badly," Mary Margaret says. Emma blanches, scrambling to come up with a halfway decent reply.

"I already-"

"The _real_ reason, Emma." Emma sighs. Motherly perception is going to be quite the pain in her ass. Well, that and her paralyzed pirate.

No.

_The_ paralyzed pirate. He's not _hers_ in any way, shape, or form.

"A life for a life, I suppose." Mary Margaret frowns, perplexed.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that … I've done a lot of thinking. And my mind keeps going back to Lake Nostros. He … he could have killed me. Should have killed me. But he didn't. He spared my life, saved Aurora's, all at the cost of him getting to Storybrooke."

"So you're doing all of this because you feel like you're in his debt?" Mary Margaret asks, "Emma, you can't-"

"You're misunderstanding me," Emma interjects. "I'm doing this because I need to know why he did all of this. I'm helping him because while he may be the scum of the earth right now, I can see someone worth helping. And if I can bring that man out … our town might be a little bit better."

* * *

"So where will you take me, Swan?" Hook asks when she walks into his hospital room, not even bothering to greet her. "Some kind of crazy ward? Back to my ship in the hopes that Cora will finish me off? Or better yet, making me crocodile food?"

"None of the above," Emma snaps.

"Then where am I going, love?"

"With me."

* * *

**Review?**


End file.
